Harrowing
by galleywinter
Summary: A Harrowing gone incredibly wrong leads Templar Carver to examine the differences between how the Circle instructs mages and how is father taught his sisters. Entry for the Asunder contest.


This is Bioware's sandbox, I'm just playing in it.

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><p>"End it!" the Knight Commander's voice rang, cold and emotionless, through the chaos. It was a command not to be questioned, an order not to be disobeyed.<p>

This was all wrong.

The abomination rushed at him, and Carver lashed out with his talents in response, lyrium fizzling through his veins as he stripped the abomination of its magic. But it wasn't enough. The abomination merely slowed, shaking its head in agitation, and then it raged anew.

It wasn't supposed to have been this way.

The Veil snapped suddenly taut, the energy of the Fade pushing oppressively against him, pressing into his chest and stealing his breath.

Audrina shouldn't have needed to turn to the First Enchanter upon entering the Harrowing chamber and ask him what she should expect.

Before Carver could react, before he could move to stop it, a massive wave of magic surged over him, _through_ him, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying across the Harrowing chamber.

The First Enchanter shouldn't have told Audrina that he couldn't answer her.

Carver's head struck the stone wall. His vision swam, dipped, wholly unreliable. A large blob that could only have been the abomination bore down on him again. Through some grace of the Maker, he'd managed to keep his hold on his sword. Carver scrambled to his feet, pointing his sword at the beast.

Lyrium tanged on his tongue and burned in his nose as the magic in the chamber was suddenly doused, and then, with the sickly, wet sound of flesh being rended by steel and the dull, snapping crunch of a blade being driven home and then twisted against bone, it was over.

The Knight Commander stood before him, looming over the abomination sprawled on the floor. Blood ran thick and wild under his feet, seeping into the mortar between the cobbles, staining the very foundation of the room.

The Knight Commander, her face impassive, slowly withdrew her sword from the abomination's chest. "Now do you understand," she said, her voice soft and pitched for Carver's ears alone, as she pulled a cloth from her belt and began to wipe her blade clean, "why we are necessary?" She looked up at him and there was steel in her gaze. "Why mages must be so closely guarded? Why _we_ must be the ones to watch them?"

He looked down at the thing that had once been Audrina, at the gaping maw in its chest. His stomach heaved. He clenched his teeth and swallowed once, tamping down on the bile burning its way up his throat. He could feel the Knight Commander watching him and knew she still expected the answer he hadn't yet given. He swallowed again, and his mouth opened and closed uselessly as he tried to tell the Knight Commander what she wanted to hear - that he understood, that mages could be dangerous.

The words wouldn't come.

"It's been a long, hard night for all of us," the Knight Commander said after the moment had stretched long enough that Carver felt his skin might burst into flame from the intensity of her scrutiny. "It's never a pleasant thing when a Harrowing fails to end well. You're dismissed, Ser Carver."

He nodded once and managed to mutter "Thank you, Knight Commander," before turning on his heel and walking out of the chamber as quickly as he dared.

As he wound his way through the Gallows to the barracks, he couldn't help but think of Audrina. Of her penchant for sweets and the smell of freshly milled inks. Of the shy smile and the waggle of fingertips she would offer him over the top of her stack of books before settling in to study for the evening before curfew.

Of the way her face had twisted and contorted, her body convulsing and growing before his very eyes, twisted masses of flesh bubbling up and erupting from her robes.

Bile crept up his throat again, and he bit it back.

He'd had expectations when he'd joined the Order - he'd thought to shepherd the mages as Father had done with Marian and Bethany, to guide and protect those who needed it, to help them see that they didn't need to be afraid of their talents. After taking his vows and receiving his training, he had _known_ it would be likely that there would be some mages who would fail their Harrowing, some who wouldn't be strong enough to resist the temptations apparently offered to them in the Fade. But knowing it could happen and actually seeing it occur had been two very different things.

Tension coiled through Carver's chest and shoulders, and his fists clenched quickly enough that his gauntlets creaked.

Why wouldn't they have told her what she would face, _instructed_ her, trained her so that she could _fight_ it? The Chantry would never allow its templars to go into battle untested and unprepared. So why would they do it to their mages? Father hadn't left Bethany or Marian to wonder on the dangers of the Fade. So why did the _Circle_? Why would the Circle practically set its students up to _fail_? None of it made any sense.

Everything snapped into perfect clarity. _This_ must have been why Father left the Circle. Why Father had been so _insistent_ that even _he_ understood the dangers of demons and the temptations they offered. He still remembered Father's lectures on the subject in all of their bone-chilling detail, in fact, with perfect clarity.

A determined grin crept across his lips. Starting now, Carver vowed, not one more mage would go into the Harrowing unprepared. Not one more.


End file.
